In White Raiment

Mr Ashwicke."

  "Who was it?" I demanded quickly.

  "A lady--a young, rather good-looking lady."

  "What was she like? Describe her to me."

  "Well, she wore a thick white veil so that I couldn't see her face quitedistinctly," the man answered; "but she, like yourself, declared thatshe knew Mr Ashwicke, and had been a visitor here. She asked to seethe very same rooms as you have seen. Very curious, isn't it?"

  "Very," I exclaimed in wonder. "Did she give any further explanation?"

  "No; she gave me half a sovereign instead," he laughed.

  "And she also declared that Mr Ashwicke had lived here recently?"

  "Yes; that's what caused me to inquire."

  "Very remarkable," I said. "I wonder who she could have been. Can'tyou give the slightest description of her?"

  "I only noticed that she spoke in a soft, refined voice, and that shehad very pretty eyes, blue-grey, I believe they were. But those thickwhite veils, with embroidery on them, make it very difficult to see awoman's face clearly."

  "And her hair? Was she fair or dark?"

  "Between colours."

  "Fair?"

  "No; not fair, and not dark. Almost chestnut colour, I think it was."

  "Was she tall?"

  "Middling. She came in a hansom, and it waited for her. She wasevidently a lady."

  "She gave no name?"

  "No; she was very discreet. And that's what made me scent a mysterywhen you called and asked for the same person, and to see the samerooms."

  "Well, it is extraordinary," I remarked. "Most extraordinary!"

  I was sorry that I had no money to give him a tip, but my lasthalf-crown reposed in the corner of my pocket, and I could not summoncourage to leave myself penniless; so I merely thanked him, and,descending the steps, left him with disappointment plainly depicted uponhis face.

  The man might be useful, I felt, therefore I had decided to return at anearly date, when my funds were not so low, and give him a similar tip tothe one he had received from the veiled lady.

  Who was she? I wondered. Surely it could not have been Beryl herself.

  By good fortune, on my return to Rowan Road, I found a letter awaitingme, and on opening it discovered that it was from a doctor practising inBayswater, who, in reply to my application a week before, appointed mehis _locum tenens_. Therefore, on the following day, I thanked Bobwarmly, for all his hospitality towards me, and bade him good-bye.

  "Promise me one thing, Dick," he said, as he stood in the hall, holdingmy hand in a firm, friendly grip of farewell.

  "Well," I asked, "what is it?"

  "That you'll try and forget all about this mystery of yours," he saidearnestly. "You'll be getting brain fever, or something equallydisagreeable, if you don't try to control yourself and think no more ofit. The experience is unusual, but, depend upon it, the mystery is sowell kept by the set of scoundrels into whose hands you fell, thatyou'll never get to the bottom of it."

  "But I mean to solve it," I said resolutely. "I'm married, my dearfellow, and--well, I love her."

  "I know. That's just the devil of it," he answered bluntly. "You'regone on her, and the mystery makes you the more eager to claim her asyour wife!"

  "Exactly, old fellow," I answered. "I know that you're my best friend.Indeed, you have kept me out of the gutter or the common lodging-housethese past weeks, and I am ready to repay you in any way in my power;but as to taking your advice in this matter, I really can't."

  "Then, you're a fool, Dick."

  "I may be," I responded; "but I mean to clear up the mystery."

  "Because you are jealous of this young Chetwode."

  "I don't deny that I'm jealous," I replied with perfect frankness. "ButI know that Beryl is in danger, and, as her husband, I should be at herside to protect her."

  "That's all very well; but, after all your exertions, you've reallydiscovered absolutely nothing."

  His words were, alas! only too true. I had made many discoveries, buteach of them had only served to render the veil of mystery moreimpenetrable.

  "But why do you urge me to give it up?"

  "For your own sake," he responded. "You can't practise properly whenyour head is full of such a bewildering puzzle. Don't you see that inthis affair your reputation is at stake?"

  "But her life is of greater moment to me than my own reputation," Ideclared. "Let me have my own way, there's a good chap." And I wishedhim good-bye.

  An hour later I became installed as temporary assistant to a surgeon inRichmond Road, Bayswater, who, having been "run down" by the unusualnumber of cases of influenza, had resolved to take a month's vacation.

  The Bayswater surgeon proved a genial fellow, but I saw little of him,for he left for North Wales with his family early next morning, afterhanding me his visiting-book and giving me general instructions. Afortnight went by, and so large was the practice--for I had to attend anumber of the large drapery establishments in Westbourne Grove, where myprincipal was medical officer--that I had but little leisure. To forgetthe strange enigma which so troubled my brain I had thrown myselfheartily into the work.

  One hot, oppressive evening, after I had been in Richmond Road aboutthree weeks, I was busy seeing the patients who, crowding thewaiting-room between the hours of seven and nine, entered theconsulting-room one by one to describe their physical ills, when theservant came in with a card, saying--

  "A lady wishes to see you at once, sir."

  I took the card she handed me, and started with mingled surprise andsatisfaction when I recognised the name--Lady Pierrepoint-Lane. At lastshe was in London again! But how, I wondered had she discovered mywhereabouts. Quickly I went into the hall, and there found her withblanched face and in a state of great agitation.

  "Ah, Doctor," she gasped breathlessly, as I greeted her and our handsmet, "I am so glad I've found you? I went to Hammersmith, but yourfriend, Doctor Raymond, told me you were here."

  "What is the matter?" I inquired, surprised at her eager manner. "Hasanything occurred?"

  "Yes, something most mysterious!" she answered hoarsely. "You are theonly doctor whom I can trust. Will you come with me at once? I have acab in waiting."

  "Where?" I inquired. "To your house?"

  "Yes," she urged. "Do not let us lose time. Apologise to your otherpatients here, and come at once. It's a matter of life or death."

  "Of life or death?" I cried. "Who is ill?"

  "It's all a mystery," she answered in the same breathless manner. "Butyou will keep it a secret--promise me."

  "I have many family secrets entrusted to me," I answered. "Rest assuredthat I shall betray no confidence."

  "Then come quickly, and recollect that what you may see or hear to-nightyou must never divulge. On your word of honour as a gentleman."

  "I give you my word of honour," I answered, wondering what fresh mysterywas in store for me.

  Then, turning, I asked a servant, who stood near, to tell the patientswaiting for me that I had been unexpectedly called out to an urgentcase, and would return in an hour.

  "Good!" her ladyship exclaimed. "Let us not lose an instant."

  Instinctively I placed my instrument case in my pocket, and took down myhat.

  "Tell me the nature of the illness," I urged. "How did it occur? Whois the patient?"

  "How it occurred nobody knows. It is a mystery, as I tell you. Mycousin Feo, to whom I think I introduced you, is dying!"

  "Dying!" I gasped, staring at her amazed. "Here in London?"

  "Yes, at my house. I have called you because you are a doctor, and Ican rely upon your secrecy."

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

  IN PERIL.

  Without loss of a moment we entered the hansom and drove along Bishop'sRoad and Westbourne Terrace, and thence across Sussex Gardens toGloucester Square.

  Beside me my companion sat pale, erect, and rigid, responding only inmonosyllables to my questions, and refusing to tell me
anything beyondwhat she had already said--that her cousin was dying. Her manner wasstrange, as though she were in deadly fear.

  I had taken her hand to assist her into the cab, and found it was coldas ice. Her face was the face of a woman haunted by some imminentterror, a white countenance with eyes dark and deep sunken. How changedshe was from the bright, pleasant woman who had consulted me under suchcurious circumstances, when I had first taken Bob's place at Rowan